


Babequisition

by accidentalapostate



Category: Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Babies, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Inquisition, Magic, Multi, Other, Skyhold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentalapostate/pseuds/accidentalapostate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a routine mission in the Hinterlands, Inquisitor Niamh Lavellan and her companions encounter odd Tevinter magic.  A spell gone wrong turns all of the companions into two-year olds, and Niamh and her advisers must both learn to babysit effectively while trying to find a cure for the condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What did you do?

          Niamh Lavellan awoke. From what type of slumber she did not know. She could feel a throb in her left hip as if she had been thrown up against something hard, knocking her unconscious. She flinched as she tried to move her body. She was slowly becoming aware of the immense pain all of her limbs and head. Did she have a concussion?

_           What happened?  _ She could smell the remnants of a powerful spell, the magic burning the very air. The elf coughed into her hand and noticed a small spatter of blood.  _ Wonderful. A broken rib.  _ She’d have to let Solas take a look at that later. Maybe he knew a spell for the achy pain resonating throughout her body,

_           Wait! Solas. Wasn’t he here with me? Wherever here is.  _ It seemed odd to her that the apostate elf who never left her side would be absent now. Niamh gasped as her eyes flashed open and she began to remember what had transpired.

          The whole crew had been camped in the Hinterlands with the exception of the advisers who held the fort down at Skyhold. It had just been a routine mission: Locate some straggling venatori agents and take them out. A no-hassle mission since Niamh knew the Hinterlands like the back of her hand at this point.

          Only, the venatori had been anything but run of the mill. They were powerful Magisters. Dorian had noted they bore some cryptic insignia that was normally used to stamp birth certificates and perform birth rites. “Novum Vitus,” he’d muttered, perplexedly,”That means ‘new life,’ but why are the venatori wearing it?”

          Solas had only stared ominously, almost as if he had an idea but was not sure enough to voice it. Vivienne just scoffed. The rest of the company had just stood, waiting for the Mage experts to have some kind of bright idea. Nothing. The only thing they all knew were that these Magisters were closing in on them, encircling the encampment chanting.

          “What in the-” Niamh had begun to exclaim when Dorian shoved her into a tree. She heard a powerful explosion of magical energy before drifting out of consciousness.

_           What was he protecting me from? And where is everybody now?  _ Niamh heard a rustling from in the middle of the destroyed camp. She limped over to see what was causing the noise. When she reached the center where the fire had once smoldered, she almost fainted.

          In the center of the circle lay all of the Magisters, deceased, but they had been drained of every ounce of youth they possessed, mummified and ancient. Yet that was not the most striking feature of the scene. Dispersed amongst the bodies of the dead were small, naked forms, cooing. Each bore a striking resemblance to one of her companions.

  
          “Creators, I hope I'm hallucinating she said as she lifted the babe that looked like Dorian. “What did you do?”


	2. You Suck at Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niamh arrives back at Skyhold and faces her advisers.

          Getting everyone out of the wilds had been both easier and more difficult than the petite elf had expected. On the one hand, Leliana had become concerned with the lack of correspondence she was receiving. She had sent emissaries to investigate what was going on. They arrived to find their battered leader somewhat bandaged up, ripping up cloth and tying makeshift diapers onto 9 tiny, oddly recognizable babies.

          It had taken a while for Niamh to convince the scouts that she wasn’t crazy and that this was really happening. “What? Are the squalling slugs not enough evidence that I'm not making this up?” She had raged in frustration. The scouts finally gave in and sent for a caravan that hauled everyone back to the fortress.

          On the other hand, Niamh had not expected the babes to be so much trouble. They were after all her friends weren’t they? She soon realized that her friend’s personality traits were all too exaggerated in their two-year old forms.

          “Stop that, Cassandra,” she squeaked as the tiny seeker whacked baby Varric across the head with a wooden spoon that had been left on the wagon. Varric cried a defiant wail. Niamh sighed.

          Then, she noticed that the cry had wakened little Solas who had been napping comfortably in her arms. He started to squirm and his tiny features contorted in an all too familiar way. Niamh grinned as she remembered how he looked when he made himself drink tea. She was amused to note that the normally bald man, had soft dark brown hair on his head that curled up in little ringlets around his face and at his neck.  _ I wonder if our kids would- ew Nia- stop. No kids. You suck at kids.  _ She shook the disturbing thought from her mind, though the prospect would not even matter if she couldn't find a way to reverse whatever had happened.

          Baby Solas calmed down and fell back into a peaceful slumber, as Niamh rocked. She now turned her attention to her other miniature companions. She noted that Cassandra and Varric had finally retreated to opposite corners of the caravan.  _ Good. _

          Sera, her eyes huge and her mouth twisted into a mischievous grin leaned over and belched in little Miss De Fer’s face, exploding in giggles when Vivienne gagged and said “NO.” Vivienne immediately retreated as far as she could from the spunky elfling.

          Dorian had found Cassandra’s shield that she’s been carrying before the incident. Niamh had propped it up in the corner of the caravan wagon. The teeny Tevinter sat directly in front of the steel surface admiring his own visage. He’d tilt his head one way and grin, and then the other way and grin.  _ Confident as ever I see. _

          Niamh then turned her attention to Blackwall and the Iron Bull. Blackwall was perhaps the most well-behaved toddler she had ever seen.  He sat up straight forward and stared stoically into the distance.  Occasionally, his head would bob as he’d doze off.  The Bull was anything but well-behaved.  The young qunari, hardly a “bull” as his horns were but nubs kept gnawing the corner of the wooden benches no matter how much he was told not to.

_          Who am I forgetting?  _ Niamh felt as though she had missed someone. She looked around the wagon interior, and suddenly remembered Cole as she saw his large hat in the pile of the other gear that no longer fit its owners. The hat began to twitch, and a tiny face peaked out from underneath, “Can help?” he asked.  Niamh smiled and shook her head.

          The ride had been over all peaceful, for which Niamh was grateful.  She did not think she could have handled the nine two-year olds single-handedly had they been misbehaving.  She was so relieved to reach Skyhold, though explaining what had happened to the advisers was not going to be easy since she only had half memory of the situation.  She had not even anticipated that getting them to focus on the issue would be a problem.

         “Oh, how dear,” Leliana had squealed as she rushed to cradle baby Cassandra who looked more than displeased at the attention, “How in the world did this happen?” She continued to harass the mini-seeker by pinching her cheeks.

          “I’m not exactly sure.  There was a Tevinter cult that Dorian said bore the crest of new life.  They were attempting to cast some sort of spell and he pushed me out of the way and I hit my head and lost consciousness,” Niamh explained, still holding Solas, as every attempt to set him down or hand him to another person resulted in much whimpering, “When I woke up, they were all babies.”

          “Maker’s Breath,” Cullen sighed as he paced nervously back and forth in front of the Inquisitor, “What to do what to do?”  He stopped and turned to look at the three women and nine babes all sitting on the floor of the war room, “We’re in the middle of a war! What are we supposed to do with nine little slobbering slugs?”

          “Calm down, Commander,” Josephine chided as she stood up and dusted off her skirts, “I’m sure that this is completely reversible if we allow proper research.”  She smiled cheerfully. “Besides, the babies might win us some support with the nobility.  Nobles love babies.” She winked in jest at the frustrated commander.

          Leliana joined in on the teasing.  “Oh. Yes.  We could put them to work for the Inquisition! Nobody would ever suspect these babies to be spies.”  Cullen fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly disturbed that nobody seemed to be taking this as seriously as he was, save maybe Niamh who had been run ragged taking care of all of them on her own.

          “How about ‘No,’ and ‘Let’s re-adultify them,’” he quipped, his patience gone.  He shot his eyes toward the Inquisitor, “Let’s see what Dagna can find out.” Niamh nodded, letting out a sigh of relief.  Hopefully the situation would be quickly resolved.


	3. C'mon Commander, Babies Are Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and the Commander pay Dagna a visit to determine the cause of the babifying.

Niamh was worried that the commander was going to murder Dagna, and if looks could kill, the cheerful little arcanist would have most certainly been dead.  It was expected that she was going to be incredibly excited about babies, especially babies who were the result of some kind of evil magic.  Of course she was more than eager to study them, but getting her past the “ooh babies” and all of the “goos and gaas” was the hard part.

After a thorough examination of all nine babies, Dagna affirmed that they did seem to be young versions of their friends.  Niamh had to refrain from rolling her eyes at the statement of the obvious. _.  _ Cullen had not been so restrained, glowering at the spunky dwarf until she began to provide new information.

“Yipes, who ruffled your mantle, Mr. Grumpybear,” Dagna teased, only to be rewarded with a disgusted growl from the Commander.  She then became more serious, picking up a book that had the same insignia that the magisters had been wearing engraved on the front cover. “Does this look like the symbol you saw, Inquisitor?”  

Niamh squinted at the cover discerningly, feeling a shock of dread at the symbol she knew all too well.  She nodded and Dagna chuckled, proud of herself for figuring it out. “Well, you, my friend stumbled across a very obscure sect of the magisterium.  In fact, most people thought the mages who practiced entropy to such extremes were lost centuries ago.”   


“Entropy,” Niamh questioned, a bit embarrassed by her lack of technical knowledge of magic.  She had not been Circle trained, so she had a more practical and field-based instruction with her Keeper.

“Entropy,” Cullen chimed in, “Is life-force magic. Mages who use entropic attacks seek to weaken their opponent’s vitality  in order to make a sturdy foe easier to handle.  I always detested templar training to prepare us to handle entropy because I always felt like I had not slept in weeks afterward.” 

“Right, Commander,” Dagna stated, seemingly impressed by the former Templar’s textbook knowledge of magic, “These magisters seemed to be utilizing an augmented form of a life-drain spell that most mages learn as apprentices.” Dagna flicked the book open to a page she had marked and handed it to Niamh.   
  
The page featured the instructions for a ritual in which a life-drain spell not only steals the life force of the target, but also appeared to take years off of the casters’ lives. Niamh noticed the striking similarity between the formation the picture presented and the way the magisters had stood around the camp.  She also recognized the words from the chant.

“It looks to me like those venatori magisters were attempting to drain your life-force and split it amongst themselves, which would have probably made each appear about five years younger,” Dagna began to explain, “But when Dorian moved you out of the way and countered their spell, he threw off the whole ritual, it ended up backfiring.”

Niamh blinked in bewilderment. “So, our companions ended up absorbing the life-force of all of the magisters present,” she exclaimed, finishing Dagna’s sentence. Dagna nodded. “Is there anyway to reverse the effects of the curse,” Niamh asked, really wishing she had her mage companions here for advice.  They’d know what to do.

Dagna sighed disappointedly, “I haven’t been able to find any reversals in any textbooks or literature, but I am not done searching.  I have contacted several of my mage friends, but they have  not responded yet.” She shrugged her shoulders apologetically at the Inquisitor and Commander.    
  
“So, you mean we are stuck babysitting until you can figure something out,” Cullen questioned, almost in a panic.   
  
“Oh c’mon Commander! Babies are fun,” Dagna cheered, earning her only scoffs from Cullen.   
  
At that moment, a wail of torment rang from the hallway outside the double doors to the undercroft.  The doors suddenly swung open, revealing one of the healers who agreed to watch a few of the babies while the advisers tried to figure things out.  She was frazzled and a look of pure desperation made her young features appear to be about ten years older.  Niamh noted that she was almost in tears, and that the infant she was holding was clearly unhappy.   
  
“Inquisitor, please! You have to help me,” She begged, “This child has been inconsolable for hours.”  Niamh rushed up to the young woman only to see that the crying infant was none other than her Solas.   
  
“You have  _ got  _ to be kidding me,” she muttered bitterly, taking the fussy two-year old Solas from the healer and resting him on her hip. He hushed up immediately, grasping Niamh’s tunic in his tiny fists.  _ Spoiled little shit. You know what you’re doing _ . “Do you know why he started crying?”   
  
The young woman looked relieved at the cessation of crying and was happy to provide an answer. “Well, I woke him up from his fourth nap of the day so that I could feed him,” she explained, “The little guy was so distraught he would not even eat.  I knew you would be able to console him.”   
  
Niamh huffed, annoyed at the fact that Solas was being so difficult, and she  _ knew _ that this kid was smart enough to know what he was doing. “Yes, thank you. Just, if he ever gets like this, bring him directly to me,” she said with a sigh while baby Solas cooed happily, “Also, for future reference: Never wake him from a nap.  I don’t care how many he’s had. Just let him sleep.”  The healer bowed and left the undercroft.     
  
“Maker preserve you, Inquisitor,” Cullen murmured sympathetically as he walked up to the Inquisitor, “It looks like he’s still sharp as ever, and obviously, favors you.” Cullen laughed and gently patted Solas on the head.  The elfling cringed in response

Then, the door swung open again, “Commander, you have  _ got _ to help us!”  It was Krem, only his usually neatly kept hair was disheveled and he had a bloody nose and black eye. “The Bull...he keeps charging,” the mercenary whimpered. Cullen put his hand to his face in exasperation and let out a sigh.   
  
“Please tell me this is some kind of joke, Krem,” the Commander breathed.     
  
“Certainly not a joke, Sir,” Krem stated grimly, “I thought the bastard was hard to handle as a big lug, but no, he’s much worse as a little lug.  Same need to hit things, less inhibition.” The Charger wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand and awaited a response from Cullen.

  
Cullen laughed in disbelief, shaking his head, “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”  The two exited the undercroft, Cullen calling out to the Inquisitor, “Let’s hope we have more luck with the others.” Niamh strongly doubted that would be the case.   
  
She was right.


	4. Not Responsible for Suffocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well-behaved Dorian causes a fuss, the Commander shows a brief moment of paternal instinct, and baby Solas is problematic once again! I had to have a bit of angst in this chapter as we are building up to a finale soon!

If Niamh had been called upon once, she had been called upon a thousand times.  The nine, terrible two-year-olds were wreaking more havoc in Skyhold than a horde of stampeding druffalo.   She had never thought her job as leader of the Inquisition would involve changing diapers, lugging around cranky toddlers on her hip, and basically playing mother of nine.  Yes, she had help, but it always seemed like the brunt of the caregiving fell upon her.

The Inquisitor could not even have an uninterrupted War Room meeting anymore. It seemed like every half hour or so, some servant would barge in requesting someone’s help with one of the toddlers and it was beginning to wear on everyone’s patience. BAM! The all too familiar sound of doors being frantically slammed open rang throughout the corridor. Cullen let out a guttural growl and Leliana and Josephine exchanges concerned glances while Niamh just rolled her eyes.

“Damn it,” Cullen shouted, slamming a fist on the War Table, knocking a few markers out of place, irritating the anal commander further,”Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something right now? What is Sera doing this time??” Had Niamh not known better, this would have sounded like a normal, pre-babyfication conversation.

The young mage standing in the doorway looked absolutely horrified at Cullen's gaze. “I-it's not Sera, sir,” he stuttered cautiously, “It's Dorian.”

That comment caught Niamh's attention particularly. Of all of her babyfied friends, Dorian was one of the least trouble-making.  He was usually content to sit in the library and look at picture books, or gaze out the window to the Skyhold courtyard.  The Inquisitor had come to expect frequent interruptions from servants dealing with temperamental Solas crying and refusing to eat, drink, move, or breath without her in his sight.  She’d also become accustomed to Sera getting food everywhere and hiding from her guardians.  The Bull would sometimes have to be quarantined to his own room if he became too excited and sometimes Cassandra and Varric would break out into pinch fights.  Vivienne would only respond with “No,” to those watching her no matter what the request or question was, which often tested the patience of whoever was watching her.  Otherwise, quiet Cole, Blackwall on his wooden rocky-griffon, and little Dorian were oh-so easy to deal with.  

“U-uh well, um,” the young Mage tried to find the proper words as Cullen’s gaze burned hotter and hotter into the side of his face. “He won't stay out of the drapery. Every time one of us diverts our attention for no more than a minute, he’s toddles over to the curtains and entangled himself in them. It’s like he thinks they’re fine silks or something.”

Leliana could not contain a giggle, “It seems the little guy already has an interest in his appearance. I don't see the problem. Let the the boy play dress up! “ the young mage nodded, but glanced to the Inquisitor for confirmation, hoping that she would offer to retrieve the mageling from the drapes. She did not.

“Aye, but if he pulls the blasted things down on top if him, I'm not responsible for his suffocation.” He stormed out of the room, obviously not pleased to still be in charge of the child.

“Maker’s Breath,” Cullen groaned as he put a hand on his hip and another on his now throbbing head, “Remind me to never have children… and to write my sister and apologize for all of the hell I must have put her through.”  Josephine patted his shoulder sympathetically. She suddenly shrieked, when she had noticed the small pale form clinging on the unwary commanders back. 

“Oh… oh my,” she said, pulling her hand away from the Commander quickly.  She tilted her head around to get a better look at the tiny frame latching onto Cullen’s back. “Oh.  It’s just Cole.”   
  
“Cole,” Cullen questioned, “How in the world did  _ he  _ get on my back without me noticing?” Cullen shivered as an unsettling chill ran down his spine.  Cole had that effect on him.  He reached his right arm back over his shoulder to grasp the little spirit and hold him effortlessly with that one arm.  Cole looked up at him with big, tired eyes and smiled, softening Cullen’s expression immediately.  He tousled Coles blond unkempt hair playfully as the girls looked at him admiringly.    
  
“I helped,” the small spirit chirped with satisfaction before evaporating away, probably back to his favorite loft in the tavern, where he played with the mice and kittens.

Cullen blushed slightly as he noticed the three ladies in front of him giving him googly eyes. “For the love of Andraste,” he sputtered, “You three are never going to let me live that one down are you?” He avoided their gaze, instead focusing on repositioning the War Table markers. They giggled even more.   
  
“ Aww, looks like the Commander has some domesticity in him after all,” Niamh teased, “Now all we have to do is find him a wife and he’ll be set!”    
  
Leliana and Josephine snorted and looked at one another.  Josephine spoke up, “ Actually, we have received hundreds of letters about his lineage from the Orlesian court ever since the peace talks at the Winter Palace.  I’m sure we could find a suitable lady.” The other two women could not withhold their laughter.

“Oh, then we would have real babies around,” Leliana cooed, tauntingly, “They’d have gorgeous curls.” She gave a mocking sigh as she playfully punched the grumbling commander in the shoulder.

“Can we  _ please _ talk about something else,” he begged, “I fail to see how my momentary display of affection could possibly be that interesting.” Niamh was about to relent and change the subject to locating more segments of this “new life” cult in hopes of finding a way to reverse the spell when, once again, the door slammed open. She mentally cursed when she saw the woman with whom she’d charged with minding Solas.   
  
“Did you wake him from a nap,” she asked, annoyed, figuring that the woman had disregarded her instructions and woke the sleeping baby anyway.  She noticed that the woman blanched, and shook her head slowly.  Niamh felt her heart pick up pace instantly.  She did not like the woman’s response. “What’s wrong then?”   
  
“Ma’am, he’s not woken since we put him to sleep last night.  It’s been 15 hours, and even the loudest attempts to rouse him have had no effect.  He does not even squirm.  He is also feverish, broken out in a cold sweat, but his skin is like fire to the touch.” The woman seemed almost on the verge of tears.  

  
Niamh felt her own eyes brim with tears in concern.  Baby or no, that was still her heart, and she was still worried about him.  Without a word she rushed out of the door, leaving her advisers standing agape at the unfolding events.  It seemed as if things could get no worse.   
  



	5. Not Fun At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor rushes to see what ails young Solas only to be incapacitated herself.

Niamh all but sprinted to Solas. She found him lying still as death in one of the sick beds. The caretaker had not been exaggerating as the little elf was comatose. She knelt down and placed her cheek to his to feel his body temperature, her eyes brimming with tears when she noticed that his fever was hot enough to kill him.

“What? Were you not getting enough attention you just had to go and get sick?” She lifted his limp form up, holding him so that his head  rested against the nape of her neck. She rocked him nurturingly, her left hand cupping his head.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp surge of pain as the Anchor on the hand flared. She cried out in anguish. Hearing her, the advisors rushed in sharp looks of concern hanging on their faces. Cullen was the first to rush over to take baby Solas out of her arms.

  
“Shit!” She wailed as the flare intensified when Solas left her arms, only to die down immediately. “That was weird.” She wiggled her fingers in front of her, examining the scar on her palm. She breathed a relaxed breath, thankful the pain had finally subsided.  Her relief was short lived as another sharp burst coursed through her, causing her to lose consciousness.

* * *

 Niamh’s eyes fluttered open, and she immediately knew that she was dreaming.  That could be the only explanation as to why she was in Haven...again. The last time she had been there had also been through the Fade with Solas.

“He better not be responsible for this, too,” she grumbled as she rose to her feet, dusting off her breeches.  She reasoned that her return to Haven this time was not Solas’ doing. How could it be?  He was just a very sick infant, currently.  
  
The remembrance of Solas’ state sent a pang of concern through Niamh’s chest. “How the hell am I supposed to help him if I’m stuck here,” again speaking to herself.  
  
“I might have some suggestions,” a voice rang out behind her.  
  
“That’s funny, normally when I have a conversation with myself, nobody answers,” she snipped, recognizing the voice, and turning on her heels to face it, “Solas… what in the world is going on?”  
  
Solas chuckled at the woman’s glibness before speaking, “To be honest, it has taken me more time than expected to puzzle it out, myself.  Ever since the incident with the magister cult, I have been trapped here, only vaguely aware of my physical body.”  
  
“Well, your physical body is a baby,” Niamh stated, with only a slight twinge of resentment.

“I know,” Solas said with a nod. “I have been present in that body, as I am sure the others have in theirs.”  
  
“You mean you have been YOU this whole time? Your grown self was acting like that?  You didn’t just think to inform me that I wasn’t dealing with a drooling group of toddlers?” If looks could kill, Solas would have been dead a thousand times over.  Niamh squinted at him skeptically, remembering the past few days of sheer misery she had suffered due to caring for nine cantankerous babies.

“It is not that simple, Vhenan,” he said with a gesture that she should walk with him, “While my mind remained completely intact through this ordeal, my communication with the physical world is limited based upon what my physical body is capable of. The only way I could reach you was through the actions of a two-year old ” He looked at the Inquisitor apologetically.  
  
“I’ll forgive you this time,” Niamh teased, “It’s actually a relief that your neediness as an infant was just you trying to get my attention.” She reached over and grabbed his hand, locking her fingers in his.  
  
“I assure you, it brought me no pleasure. Especially when it seemed  not to be a sufficient means of  communication.  I was running out of options.”  
  
“So, did you _make_ yourself sick?” she asked him curiously, hoping that he was behind the mysterious fever.  
  
“In a way,” he responded. “I learned that if I tried to channel too much mana through my physical body, it would cause me to develop a severe fever and lose consciousness.” He looked off into the distant, almost appearing worried about something. “I had hoped that I could bring you to me if I used enough magic.  My body seems to not be handling the burst well, but it had the desired effect.”  
  
“I’m sorry, but that was stupid,” Niamh quipped, “Now, not only do I have to find a way to reverse the spell, but I also have to make sure that you do not die.”  She released his hand, crossing her arms defiantly.  
  
“As I said, I may be able to help with the spell reversal,” Solas reassured her. “I’m sure you have already learned from Dagna that it is an enhanced spell of entropy?”  
  
“Yes,” the Inquisitor said “She’s searching for a way to revert it as we speak.”

Solas shook his head dismissively. “I doubt her search will yield much other than blood magic remedies. Modern scholars like to assume that blood magic resolves all magical puzzles. Admittedly, they are correct. But there is always a cost with such things. In this case, reversal via blood magic would cost more than I should think you’d care to spend.”

 

“Then what do you suggest,” Niamh asked urgently.  She was becoming more and more nervous that the only solution was to let them grow up, and she did not have thirty-something years to wait.

“I have spent my time here exploring the memories of our friends,” he began to explain. “Viewing what happened from different angles has proven beneficial.” Using his staff, he drew an elaborate runic design in the dirt. When Niamh studied it, she recognized it immediately.

“Those are the symbols from the ritual book,” she exclaimed.

“Well done,” the other elf praised, grinning at her, “It is Elven. Very ancient, and very powerful when properly implemented.” He continued to gaze at the etchings in the dirt. 

“Why am I not surprised?” she asked dryly, “That's your explanation for damn near everything.”

Solas chuckled smugly before continuing his lecture. “Indeed, Elves have been the creators of many powerful magics, and this one is no exception.  This particular rune is associated with Falon’Din.” His voice became darker as he spoke of this subject, as if the association made the situation more dire.  Niamh did not quite understand this inflection, though.  In Dalish tales, Falon’Din was the benevolent protector of the dead and would walk with them and his brother Dirthamen in Uthenera.  
  
“Falon’Din?  I did not think him one to kill, only to assist those already dead,”  Niamh questioned, “Why would such deadly magic be associated with him?”  She thought she saw Solas’ upper lip twitch as she posed her question.  Had something she said made him uncomfortable?  She figured she was probably just misinformed about her own religion as always.  
  
“Falon’Din is believed to have become power hungry, starting brutal and deadly wars to enthrall and enslave his worshipers souls,” He paused, shaking his head in disgust, then looked at Niamh with a neutral expression, “I suppose you understand how large entropic magics could help him achieve his goals?”  The Inquisitor nodded her understanding.

  
“Anyway,” Solas returned the conversation to its original direction, “Watching the events unfold from Dorian’s perspective particularly allowed me to glean some of the details of what happened.  It seems our friend countered the entropy by using some form of necromancy. The two spells interacted and produced a reversal effect.  As unfortunate as the situation is, we would have fared much worse had it not been for Dorian’s intervention.”  
  
“Wait,” Niamh quirked an eyebrow in confusion, “Why was I not affected?”  
  
“Presumably, when Dorian pushed you out of the way, he also knocked you out of the spell’s radius,” Solas conceded.  
  
The Inquisitor took a few moments to mull over the new information in her head before speaking. “So, what all of this really means is that I have to use necromancy to reverse the spell?”  
  
“Precisely,” Solas replied. “It should be simple enough. Return to the site where we were attacked with all of the affected, conjure the magisters, then use the ritual to drain the life force from us back into them.”  
  
Niamh’s face contorted in a quixotical expression. “You mean you want me to bring these men who wanted to kill us back to life? That sounds fun and by ‘fun’ I mean ‘not fun at all.’ Won’t they just try to kill us again?  And how do you know that the ritual will not simply drain the life out of you all entirely?”  
  
"While I concede they will try and kill you," Solas replied dryly, "you will be equipped with the greatest weapon of all: knowledge." He shifted his weight, arms behind his back. Niamh prepared herself for the impending lecture. "Even a spell as advanced as this adheres to a basic tendency to assume its original form. Magic enables one to shift energy from one source to another. However, energy will always be drawn to its original vessel." Solas’ chin tilted upward and he smiled wearily. "The ritual reversed merely allows entropy to correct itself."  
  
Niamh understood magic, but this went well over her head.  She thanked Solas who then reached out and touched her left hand with his own.  The anchor ignited and she awoke. She hadn’t the slightest clue about necromancy and her resident Mortalitasi was currently enamored with curtains and his own reflection. She’d figure it out somehow.  She had to.


	6. Until Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, here it is. The final chapter, and in good time too. I was starting to run out of ideas!  
> The Inquisitor and her Advisers prepare for and perform the ritual, and Niamh learns an interesting piece of information.

As the Iquisitor’s eyes fluttered open, she found herself lying on the floor where she had collapsed.  Her head was propped up on Leliana’s lap.  The Spymaster was looking down at her, revealing a soft concern one did not often find on her face. Josephine and Cullen were present as well, both looking down at her.  Cullen was still holding little Solas who seemed to have recovered from his fever and was calmly napping against the commander’s shoulder.

Niamh grunted as she sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she felt her advisers gaze burning into her.  She knew they were wanting to know how she felt, what had happened, and she did not know where to begin.  

“That was helpful,” she said cheerfully, wishing she did not have to elaborate, but knowing she would. “Solas told me how to fix this mess.”  Still, her advisers looked at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. 

“How,” Cullen asked looking at the sleeping elf he was holding, “His current area of expertise seems to be napping and drooling on my armor.”   
  
“Apparently, our friends’ minds are still intact, but they can only communicate with the world in a way that a two-year old could,” Niamh explained, “Solas was completely conscious and aware in the Fade and he’s been actively trying to get my attention, only succeeding when he channeled enough magic through his physical body to make him sick.”   
  
“So, you spoke to him in the Fade?” Cullen questioned distrustfully, “How do you know it was not a demon attempting to trick you.”

“I think I have had enough experience with magic to know what is an is not a demon, Commander,” she snapped.  The Commander nodded in concession.

“Tell us, Inquisitor,” Josephine chimed, “What did Solas tell you?”

Niamh described in detail, to the best of her ability, what Solas had said about reversing the curse.  Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen listened attentively, seeming to understand the predicament.“I’m sure we could easily acquire a Mortalitasi to help us,” Leliana offered, “It is unfortunate that Dorian is not in a state to help us. I would more readily trust him with such a sensitive issue.” She stood up, and paced slowly in thought.  “I’ll go see who I can dig up.”  She left the room hurriedly.

“I’ll petition to section off the area of the Hinterlands where you were attacked so that the bodies are not disturbed further.” Josephine said, making a note on her clipboard, and exiting out the same door Leliana had.

“I apologize for doubting your discernment, Inquisitor, “Cullen apologized as he handed Solas to her, “I should be more trusting of your abilities, by now, but old habits seem to die hard.”  Niamh took Solas who wriggled in her arms before rousing, smiling and touching her face with a chubby little hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” the Inquisitor said dismissively, gently smiling at Solas instead. “I understand.  I should probably apologize to you for snapping.  I know you mean well.” Cullen smiled and took his leave, too.

She hugged Solas to her. “Creators, you don't know what a relief it is to know you can understand me.”

Solas leaned backward and looked at her admiringly. It was hard to tell what grown him was thinking behind the cherubic face, but she knew it felt warm. 

“Ar..lath ma,” the little Solas stuttered uncertainly. That was the first time he'd actually spoken through the two-year old body. Niamh chuckled lightly. She supposed he was much more vocal when he was actually a toddler. 

“I know,” she said, kissing his forehead. “Now c’mon, let’s go turn you back to normal. I’m not sure how much longer the servants are going to put up with all of you all’s shenanigans.”

Once Leliana had acquired the Mortalitasi, and Josephine had the area of the scene of the attack, performing the ritual was simple enough, though keeping the young inner circle still was a different story. Finally everything was in place and the mages began their work. Hazy reddish orange magic seeped up from the ground, encompassing the circumference of the site. A handful of mages were casting the reversal ritual while one Mortalitasi revived the magisters.

The orange haze first flowed through the babes causing them to glow, and effervesce, almost disappearing.  The forms grew and rematerialized as fully grown adult people.  Niamh sighed with relief as she watched on, until she realized the energy was now being transferred to the resurrected magisters.  She readied her staff, and noticed her companions were readying their weapons as well.  They were clearly awake, alert, and knew what was happening.  _ Good. _   
  
They made quick work of the magisters, and once everything had settled, the Inquisition forces left, leaving the Inquisitor and her companions to catch their breath and just, ground themselves back in reality. 

“That was… unpleasant,” Cassandra groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Varric laughed smugly and walked up beside her.

“Which part, Seeker? The drooling, pinching, or aging 30-something years in a matter of minutes?” Cassandra did not answer him with more than a grunt, and walked away to sit down on a nearby stump. Varric turned his attention toward the Inquisitor. “I’ve always wanted to relive my childhood, but that is not how I pictured it would go. This is going to make one hell of a novel.”   
  
Niamh giggled and said, “It was definitely a unique experience. Let me know if you need a non-baby perspective.”

“My dear Inquisitor,” Dorian blurted, “I must apologize for my awful behavior.  That pesky little body of mine would not let me do as I pleased, and for some reason, the drapes became enthralling.” He shook his head, clearly disturbed by his own actions. “Also, I am sorry that I seemed to have caused this whole dilemma.”

“No harm done, Dorian,” the Inquisitor said gently, “You saved me from being drained of all of my youth, so I suppose I owe you. Not to mention, you were one of the more well-behaved of the bunch.” She pointed her gaze toward Sera and the Iron Bull.  

“S’not everyday you get to be a babe, n’ screw around with people,” Sera admitted with an obnoxious laugh, “I had to have some fun.”

The Bull just shrugged and said “I had...urges,  Boss.”   
  
Vivienne seemed to be sullen.  Her arms crossed and chin tilted up in the air defiantly. Solas observed her amusedly.    
  
“I assure you, Solas. I did not act like a child as everyone else did.  I controlled my young body with as much grace and ease as my adult body,” she scoffed, “I’m sure the Inquisitor would attest to that.”  Niamh threw her hands up as a sign that she did not want to get involved, yet she ventured to speak.

“You were very composed, Viv,” she said matter-of-factly, “But you did have a case of the ‘no’s’ and ‘mine’s’.” Niamh tensed, preparing herself for the Enchanter’s retort.

“Oh, Darling,” Vivienne laughed, “ I did not have a case of anything.  My ‘no’s’ were well-warranted, and everything  _ was _ mine.” She smiled confidently and gave the Inquisitor a wink before sauntering off to join the rest of the party who were sitting in the remains of the campsite where Cassandra had found her stump seat. 

Cole then materialized in front of Niamh and stared at her ominously. “That was not pleasant. I already did it once. I did not want to do it again.” The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“I believe Cole is speaking of adapting to a physical body,” Solas interjected as he approached Niamh and Cole, his hands behind his back in the usual fashion. Cole turned to look at him and nodded that Solas was correct.   
  
“Yes. That. I do not wish to do it again.”   
  
The Inquisitor smiled.“I do not think any of us want that either,” she said, and with that, Cole seemed satisfied, vanishing into the air, and Niamh was once again standing alone with Solas, who closed the distance between them so that that he could reach out and brush a tendril of red hair out of her face.

“How do you fare, Vhenan,” he asked softly, the first person to ask her how she was doing. She breathed in deeply and let out a sigh, pressing her forehead into his chest. He brought his arms up around her and hugged her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“I’m exhausted, Solas. You all were a bunch of brats,” she whined into his tunic, her words muffled. She paused for a moment. “ You never told me you have curly hair.”

Solas chuckled, “When I have it, yes.  It is much more difficult to manage than a bald head.”

“Until you spend a day in the Western Approach, and get a terrible sunburn,” Niamh teased, tightening her  arms around his waist.   
  
“Until  then,” Solas said in an almost whisper as he held her.  They stood in a silent embrace for several moments before he spoke again. “Nia?”   
  
“Hmm?” she looked up at him, keeping her grip on his waist.   
  
“Wake up,” he whispered.   
  
Before she knew what was happening, the world around her melted away and she shot up with a start in her bed.  She looked over to her left to see Solas’ eyes fluttering open and he gazed at her sleepily.   
  
“That was… fascinating,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse from sleep.   
  
“That was… a dream,” Niamh uttered in disbelief, “That is the last time I eat anything Sera cooks so close to bed.” She rubbed her temples momentarily until she felt Solas tug at her elbow, pulling her down to him.  He pressed his lips tenderly against hers.    
  
“I rather enjoy your dreams, Vhenan,” he stated with a grin, his nose still touching hers. She huffed and rolled her eyes playfully, before tossing the heavy blanket off of herself and over his head, hopping out of bed.    
  
“Your crazy ass would,” she teased as she made her way to her wardrobe to get dressed for the day.  This dream was definitely going to be their little secret. 


End file.
